


Heart to Heart

by FionaSo, waffleguppies



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Shaiman/Shaiman & Wittman/Greig
Genre: F/M, Haava, Sarah Bucket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27786850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionaSo/pseuds/FionaSo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffleguppies/pseuds/waffleguppies
Summary: Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.A moment that takes place between Soonest Mended and No Present Like Time. Short and sweet.
Relationships: Mrs. Bucket/Willy Wonka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Heart to Heart

Willy had laid himself out on the floor, sprawled really, reminding Haava of a different place and time, half a world away and Willy’s body- too long to fit properly in the thatched hut. It reminded him of the smell of smoke, and the light as it had cast hard shadows against the walls.

That was a long time ago, now.  
  
“You look like a man with something on his mind,” said Haava as he gathered the cards from their poker game up into his hands.  
  
“Have you ever been consumed?”  
  
“Consumed?” He asked. He righted the cards. “Almost, once. Ol’ One Eye nearly got me.”  
  
“Really? I didn’t know. Hmm. No, I mean… by a person.”  
  
Haava glanced up at Willy who was reclined backwards, looking up at ostensibly nothing.  
  
“Yes. If you mean what I think you mean, then yes.”  
  
“I think I mean what you think I mean. It’s damn confusing.”  
  
Haava carefully placed the cards he had been shuffling aside and turned his attention to Willy fully.  
  
“You’ve never really talked about this kind of thing before. I just assumed you didn’t feel that way for people.”  
  
“I never have, and I know how that sounds.”  
  
“Huh. Some people are like that though.”  
  
Willy’s face screwed up a bit, and then he sat up, looped his arms around his legs and continued.  
  
“I’m Willy Wonka, I’m the greatest chocolatier who’s ever lived,” he straightened his cuffs, smartly. “I have a long list of accomplishments, accolades, awards.”

  
Haava had one eyebrow raised, watching Wonka preen and puff.  
  
“There’s really no reason to be so preoccupied by her,” Willy finished.  
  
Haava nodded, and turned a card on the stack over.  
  
“Because she’s not worthy of you?”  
  
Willy looked away then, two bright spots appearing at the high point of his cheeks.  
  
“I didn’t mean...”  
  
"Hmm."  
  
“I deserved that.”  
  
“You did.”  
  
Willy’s eyes looked slightly desperate before he said,  
  
“I feel like an idiot.”  
  
“That sounds like love.”  
  
“Don’t say that word, I don’t even want to think it.”  
  
Haava just nodded, and then picked up his stack of cards again.  
  
“And you feel this way for Mrs. Bucket?”  
  
“I feel some way.” He grimaced, looking upward, hugging his legs, vulnerable and boyish, like he was fifteen rather than somewhere physically closer to forty-three. “And how would you know?”  
  
“Everyone knows.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“And you’ve never...?”  
  
There was a pointed silence, but Willy seemed to pick up his meaning without him having to spell it out.  
  
“ _No_. I’ve never.”  
  
“No need to be testy, Stringbean. It’s normal not to, I guess I’m just surprised. Do you want to?”  
  
“If she asked- If she wanted to try. I would be happy either way, you know.” And after a short silence he said, “she _moves_ me, Haava.”  
  
“Clearly.”  
  
Willy huffed and crossed his arms.  
  
“Look, kid. What do you want me to say?”  
  
“I have a handy cyanide pill and a hole dug out back.”  
  
“Is it really so bad?”  
  
“Like I’m being destroyed, but I never want it to end.”  
  
“You’re right. She does move you.”  
  
“She still wears her late husband’s wedding ring,” he said and rested his head against his knees. “I’m out of my mind.”  
  
This was a strange thing for Haava. Their tribe had no concept of marriage until they had touched the outside world- a world with all its rules about the _right_ kind of love and the _wrong_ kind, and which was which and how it was _supposed_ to be expressed. Alien and incomprehensible, all of it.  
  
The closest they had wasn’t translatable. What English word was there that was to be bound wholly and totally, with no requirements of any party involved? A word that implied that the only thing that mattered was the love of the individual for the whole? The pledge, the devotion, the reflection- it was all those things and more. Many people did it too. Groups or couples could do it; a living parent for a departed child, a brother for his sisters, a friend for a friend.  
  
Haava tried to organize his thoughts.  
  
“The last time you said that, you also said it was good to get out.”  
  
Willy smiled.  
  
“I did, didn’t I?”  
  
“She still loves him?”  
  
“I would imagine.”  
  
“And what does that matter? Is her heart too small for both?”  
  
Willy pulled his legs closer again, thoughtfully.  
  
“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.”  
  
“You’re quoting.”  
  
“No one could accuse Sarah Bucket of having a small heart.”  
  
“Ah,” Haava said, “then maybe that’s your answer then."  
  
They were silent for a while. Haava sorted cards. Willy’s eyes searched the ceiling for something unseeable. And the factory churned, a low and hazy thrum, before Willy, more to himself than to Haava, simply said:  
  
“No time to dally while wonders await.”  
  
And then his face broke into a wondrous smile, and he laughed.


End file.
